


a truth universally acknowledged

by dancingpineapples



Category: SPY x FAMILY (Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Regency, Damian is a major simp, F/M, Gen, basically a retelling of canon tbh, becky is the best friend a girl can have, damianya, even regency anya packs a punch, punt damian into the stratosphere club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:20:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29969721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancingpineapples/pseuds/dancingpineapples
Summary: …is that a single man in possession of a good fortune and a poor temperament needs to be punched. anya forger is happy to oblige. poor damian desmond, second son of the duke of eden, doesn’t know what’s about to hit him.
Relationships: Anya Forger & Loid Forger | Twilight & Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Becky Blackbell & Anya Forger, Damian Desmond/Anya Forger, Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41





	a truth universally acknowledged

**Author's Note:**

> so basically regency au’s are my comfort au and it’s been a Shitty Month already and I think I’ve already read like several dozen fics before I got the inspo for this, so enjoy regency damianya, mostly inspired by canon (obv), pride and prejudice, and bridgerton. i think this is also in the same timeline as my other regency au (?) but I’ve never been one for consistency lol and this was purely for self indulgence <3 tysm for reading and hope u enjoy

Anya Forger was sixteen when her parents hinted at her entering society. It became apparent when they returned to her mother’s hometown and stayed with her uncle and his wife at the Briar family estate for the summer, which also coincided with the peak of the Berlint social season. She knew her parents would neither pressure nor force her into anything, but they were of the dated opinion that it was better to enter the marriage market sooner rather than later. 

That was wholly disagreeable to her. She hated the idea that her worth was tied to the prestige and station of her eventual husband. It was unfair that a woman was expected to aspire to an advantageous match, and that was supposed to be the peak of her life’s ambitions. She was lucky, at least, her parents cared less about the wealth a man could offer her and more about the happiness he would promise her. 

Although she wished they would forget the whole marriage prospect entirely. 

Anya sighed, as her mother fixed her hair. This was the first ball of the season, and Mama was less concerned with her own appearance and more preoccupied with excitement for Anya’s first official ball. While her mother may have been enthused about it, Anya was less so. She did not particularly care for the elaborate dresses, complicated up-dos, or ornate jewelry. But, she knew her mother cherished being able to share these moments with Anya. For that, and that alone, she would persevere.

“Aren’t you excited, Anya? Your first ball.” The look on Yor’s face was especially dreamy and suggested that she was reminiscing again. Anya supposed it was somewhat romantic in theory, after all, her parents had met at one of these society balls, and their marriage was what she aspired to have one day. 

That still didn’t stop her from voicing her true opinion. “I would rather stay home,” she replied under her breath.

She was lucky Papa shared the same opinion. He was never fond of posh society traditions, and he had a strained look on his face. But seeing the glow on Yor’s face, as she mentioned looking forward to seeing her old friends and seeing Anya on the dance floor, father and daughter decided they could tolerate it for an evening. 

The carriage stopped in front of the main door, and the carriage driver came around and opened the door. Papa was the first one out, before helping Mama and then herself out. Anya looked around in awe. Lord Henderson’s estate, she could admit, was very impressive. Aside from the elegant exterior of the house, the landscaping of the grounds, as far as she could see, was just as exquisite. Ever the adventurous soul, she made a note to escape the ballroom as soon as she could to explore the grounds. 

They were led inside by one of the servants, who opened the door to the ballroom before bowing deeply and turning around, most likely to return to his designated position. 

Yor was immediately spotted by Lady Camilla, who beamed at seeing her friend after so long. 

“Camilla!”

“Yor!”

The two were so caught up in each other, they hardly noticed both Loid and Anya slipped away. Loid, to god knows where, and Anya to the nearest exit, to try and find a way to the gardens. As she passed through the crowd, she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. She turned around to find an impeccably dressed girl in front of her, most likely her age, with glossy dark brown hair. 

Ignoring the curious glances shot in their direction, the girl pressed on. “Are you new to Berlint?”

Anya nodded. 

“Welcome!” The girl gave her a dazzling smile. “I’m Becky Blackbell.”

“Anya Forger.” She curtsied slightly. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Well, I suppose that makes us friends now.” She wrapped her arm around Anya’s. “Should we go for a walk?”

Anya didn’t follow her logic, but wouldn’t complain if it got her out of the ballroom and nodded. 

In her haste to escape the stuffiness of the ball, she missed the way a certain duke’s son followed her with his eyes.

“Have you always lived here, Miss Blackbell?”

“Yes, and please call me Becky. Miss Blackbell is my elder sister.” She led Anya through the tall double doors and outside onto the patio. “Lord Henderson takes great pride in his gardens. I prefer the plants to the people at balls.”

Although the other girl was forceful (an understatement), Anya could tell she was not putting up a front at least. “I understand the feeling.”

Becky smiled at her again. “I knew we would be friends.”

This time, Anya returned it. 

The two carefully made their way down the steps and out onto the lawn that was illuminated only by the moonlight. “Lord Henderson has a beautiful rose garden in the back,” Becky mentioned. “Of course, it’s much more visible during the day, but it’s still lovely at night.”

“Lead the way, then, Becky.”

They continued their chatter; Anya described how she had spent a good portion of her childhood at sea, while Becky shared whatever gossip she knew about the upper echelon they were forced to socialize with. They had become fast friends, Anya mused, which was why she felt very justified in her later actions. 

Once at the rose garden, they sat down on a stone bench and were prepared to continue their earlier conversation when they were cut off by a male voice. 

“Should you be out in the gardens, unchaperoned, after what happened to your sister, Miss Blackbell?”

Becky looked up and frowned for the first time that evening. “Lord Desmond. What a chance meeting.” Any cheerfulness she previously had seemed to have evaporated.

Anya looked between the two, immediately sensing the animosity. “Becky,” she whispered. “Who is he?”

Her new friend doesn’t get the chance to answer, instead, the gentleman in question does. He bowed, much to her surprise, “Lord Damian Desmond, at your service.”

Becky nudged her, and Anya stood up and curtsied clumsily. “Anya Forger.”

Lord Desmond, for all his apparent grandstanding, does not seem very impressive at first glance. He seemed, well, rather rude and off-putting. “Might I recommend being more selective as to your companionship in the future, Miss Forger?”

Anya’s estimation of the young lord plummeted even more. “It should hardly matter to me. My father is only in the Navy.”

“So a low standing as well then.”

Before her mouth opened to say anything, her fist moved faster than her thoughts. The boy, clearly not expecting that, stumbled into the bush next to him, then straightened up and touched his cheek gingerly. Anya immediately knew she made a mistake and rather than deal with the consequences, she grabbed Becky’s hand and pulled her back towards the main house. 

“Anya, you just-”

“I know!”

They’re not running, per se, but they walked quickly back into the ballroom and Anya has never been more relieved to run into her father. 

“There you are. Your mother was looking for you. She wanted to introduce you to someone- why are you so pale?”

Becky was quicker than her, “Oh, Mr. Forger, we went for a stroll around the gardens, and she suddenly fell ill.”

“Shall I call the carriage then?”

Anya nodded and was even more relieved when he strode off. “Becky, I apologize-”

“You don’t have to, he clearly sought to provoke both of us.” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I think he rather deserved it.”

They burst into giggles, and Anya thought maybe, maybe she will get away with it, until the agitator in question walked back into the ballroom. There were a series of gasps, especially as his mother rushed towards him. 

In the proper light of the ballroom, Anya saw she had caused a fair bit more damage than she anticipated. His cheek was already swelling and a dark bruise was beginning to take shape. She grasped Becky’s hand a little harder. 

“I should apologize to him, shouldn’t I?” She goes to take a step towards him but is held firmly in place. 

“It’s not worth it. And he would make such a ruckus about it, especially in front of the neighborhood.”

Anya can follow her logic. After all, a crowd formed around him and there was an opening for her to covertly apologize.

Well, it wasn't like she would have to see him again soon. 

In the carriage back to the Briar estate, the main topic of conversation was Damian Desmond and his injury. She wondered how long she could keep up her facade of knowing nothing when she was called out by her father. 

“Did you see anything, Anya? You and Miss Blackbell were out in the gardens as well, weren’t you?”

Her mouth went dry and her face must have given her away. 

“Please tell me you were not the one who punched him.”

“That… that would be a lie, Papa.”

“Oh my,” was all Yor managed to get out. 

“You must apologize.” Loid delivered another lecture, something about proprietary, which was rich coming from him, but his point came across very clearly. She had to apologize.

“I will! I swear. I did not want to make a scene at the ball-”

“You did punch him at the ball though,” Loid pointed out. 

There was no arguing there. 

Her mother informed her they were invited to tea at the Desmond home the next day, and Papa was adamant she apologize while there. “Apologize. Grovel. Whatever is necessary for him to forgive you.”

She nodded wordlessly. 

“Of course she will, Loid. She’s a wonderful girl. She just makes mistakes sometimes. Like all of us.”

Despite Yor’s reassurance, he frowned as he helped them into the carriage. “I know. Simply a reminder.”

As the carriage started to move, Yor smiled at him through the window and Anya waved weakly, stomach-churning. 

_Is this what Papa felt when he went off to war?_

The Desmonds lived only two miles away, not a remarkably long distance, but long enough for her nerves to grow. What if he had no interest in her apology? Or what if he would rather hold this over her and her parents? Maybe acting rashly wasn’t the wisest decision. 

A servant helped the two of them out of the carriage and another led them into the parlor, where Lady Desmond was already seated. Yor plastered on her polite society smile, and Anya followed suit, albeit weakly. 

“Oh, Mrs. Forger, I am delighted you were able to attend! This must be your daughter.”

“Yes, of course, thank you for the invitation. This is Anya.”

Anya curtsied, as required. “You have a lovely home.”

Lady Desmond smiled as she appraised her. “I believe you’ve already met my youngest son, Damian?”

Her eyes widened at his name, and she nodded hesitantly, “Yes, we were briefly introduced by Miss Blackbell.”

“He happens to be out, otherwise I would have him show you the grounds. They’re very pretty this time of the year.”

Anya smiled back benignly. 

Tea was dull. The duchess and her mother were discussing the previously held Henderson ball, and Anya was almost half asleep. She doesn’t care about what style of dress Lady Something or Another wore or if Lord Whoever was going to propose to Miss Who Cares. Her mother doesn’t care either, but for the sake of politeness, feigns an interest. 

If that is what it means to be a lady, then Anya is fine with passing up on it. 

Her restlessness was evident, and Yor placed a gentle hand on her knee as if to ask for her patience. But there is only so much patience a girl can have. 

She stood up, suddenly, “Would it be all right if I went around the gardens, your grace? I require some air.”

“Of course, Miss Forger.” The duchess waved over a servant. “Please take Miss Forger to the gardens.” 

Anya followed the servant silently, as they passed through the lavish halls of the Desmond estate. She took in the classical art and the elaborate furnishings, all of which were to be expected of a Duke.

“The gardens are through here, Miss Forger. I trust you shall be able to make your way back on your own.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

She was taken aback by the greenery that surrounded her. If she had thought Lord Henderson’s gardens were beautiful, this was simply in a league of its own. As she walked through, appreciating the flora around her, her thoughts strayed to the younger Lord Desmond. She promised Papa she was going to apologize, but if he wasn’t here, how was that even possible? Maybe she could pass on her apology through his mother, but no, then she would have to expose her misdeed. 

As she studied the blooms in front of her and puzzled over that question, she missed the sound of footsteps behind her. It was when she heard a slight cough did she turn around. 

“Lord Desmond!” she exclaimed. Speak of the devil and he appears. 

“Miss Forger, I didn’t know you would be here this afternoon.”

“We came for tea, and I needed some air. I thought-well, your mother mentioned you were out.”

“I’m back now.”

The two stood in awkward silence before Anya broke it. “I wanted to apologize. For the Henderson ball. It was terribly unbecoming of me.”

She studied his face for the first time properly and winced seeing the bandage on his otherwise unblemished cheek, the darkened bruise peeping out from underneath. He took a step forward, “Did you assume I would accept your apology?”

She stepped back as if having been struck. “I hoped you would. It was very reckless, and I deeply regret it.” 

He sighed, and Anya felt her panic rising. She promised she would apologize, but it seemed her words had little effect on him. “Is that all? I shall take my leave then-”

“Wait!” She bit her lip, as tears sprung from her eyes unwillingly. She wiped them aside. “Lord Desmond, I am so very sorry. Please forgive me.”

He stood in front of her, and her breath was caught in her throat. She was unaware, however, of the internal conflict running through his mind. As much as he wanted to hold a grudge, he was also like any other man who was easily susceptible to a woman’s tears, but most particularly _hers_. Which was why he changed his mind, “I accept your apology. Please wipe your tears, you’ll alarm the other guests.” He hoped she didn’t notice the rising blush on his face, especially as she looked up at him with glistening eyes, a smile threatening to emerge across her lips. 

“I hope we can be friends now?” she added, a hopeful note in her voice. 

“Unlikely.” As her smile started shrinking, Damian backtracked, “But we can try.”

That must have been fine by her, as her tears dried up. As long as one didn’t look too closely, it was hardly apparent she had just cried. 

He coughed to clear his throat. “You should return to the drawing room. It’s not appropriate for us to be unchaperoned.”

“Oh. Of course.”

It was obvious that these things went right over her head, and yet, he found it oddly charming. She was very different from other debutantes he had met, and he wondered vaguely if there was anyone else courting her. He blushed again, as they made their way back towards the house, and she looked over at him curiously. 

“Are you alright? Your face is rather red.”

“I’m fine. It must be the sun.”

“I see.”

They made it back to the back doors, and he opened them and gestured for her to go inside. “I have another matter to attend to, but it was lovely to see you again, Miss Forger.”

“Likewise. Have a good afternoon, then.” Just as she crossed the threshold, she turned around to wave when he opened his mouth. 

“Would it be fine if I called on you later this week?”

He knew almost immediately the meaning of his words was lost on her, as she nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, that would be fine.” She smiled up at him, this time the smile reaching her eyes, “I look forward to it, Lord Desmond.”

(Oh, he’s a goner, isn’t he?) 

The next day, when Anya woke up, her heart already felt ten times lighter, knowing she had apologized and he had accepted it. They could perhaps even become friends.

And then, she goes downstairs, to find chaos. Her father alternated between a state of despair and a state of fury, while her mother stifled her laughter behind her cup of tea. It appeared that flowers had been sent to the estate for her. 

As she sat down with her breakfast, she read the card attached. Anya doesn’t know if she should blush or laugh.

_To Miss Forger, whose strength of character is most admirable._


End file.
